


jamais vu

by yeosakoi



Category: Golden Child (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Forgotten Love Syndrome, Heavy Angst, I apologize for writing this, Love Disease, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, i too despise myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeosakoi/pseuds/yeosakoi
Summary: It’s a gradual process: the memories of Sungyoon’s fond expressions as Joochan had gotten excited over finally understanding his homework begin to grow foggy, the memories of the gentle, innocent brushes of fingers against his skin that Joochan had relished in fade at the corners, and even Sungyoon’s smile begins to grow hazy, and then one day, Joochan wakes up with a gasp, searching desperately for a memory of Sungyoon that isn’t a flicker of his eyes or his love he's always giving to others, never Joochan.
Relationships: Choi Sungyoon | Y/Hong Joochan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	jamais vu

**Author's Note:**

> LMFAOO hey i have returned. had writer's block which i still kind of have and it SUCKS and it doesn't help i had a bunch of tests and have more coming up sigh... because of my writer's block this fic is a little bit messy and the style is different from my usual style, so just ignore that :D. 
> 
> anyway this au is based off of the forgotten love syndrome au, where the syndrome is caused by unrequited love and causes a person to forget the person they love until eventually, they forget them completely, and the only way to retrieve those memories is via that person's death. i apologize greatly for writing this, satan possessed me. i swear i'll be back with some fluff to make up for it. 
> 
> enjoy !! if u can !! and tell me what you think sdfhjsdjf

When he‘s in high school, Joochan meets Sungyoon.

Sungyoon is stern and uptight and doesn‘t appreciate Joochan‘s love for dyed hair and piercings and loosened ties. Joochan doesn‘t appreciate Sungyoon‘s newfound fixation in making it his new goal to get Joochan all straightened out, especially as it becomes a daily ordeal for Sungyoon to stop him with a hand on a shoulder to tighten his tie every morning and check Joochan’s pockets for any cigarettes before sending him off with a curt nod. Joochan appreciates it even less when Sungyoon grabs him by the collar and forces him to the hair salon to dye his hair black, mourning the loss of his beautifully-bleached hair. 

Sungyoon especially doesn’t appreciate Joochan’s tendency to arrive at school late, the last one bumbling to the gate as he waits impatiently, Joochan bleary-eyed and staggering as if he doesn’t get enough sleep. It happens one too many times that eventually, Sungyoon shows up at Joochan’s house with a key that Joochan is sure has been stolen from the principal's office, and yanks him out of bed. 

Joochan realizes too late that it had been a bad idea to laugh at the horrified expression on Sungyoon’s face when he admits to living off of store-bought ramen daily, because from then on, Sungyoon is there. 

He’s there in the mornings, setting a plate in front of Joochan and tugging on his ears to make sure his piercings are out, he’s there all the way to school until Joochan unwillingly takes his seat in his class, he’s there when Joochan sits on the roof, sipping on his (stolen) banana milk while Sungyoon silently does his work. 

And then he’s there after too, walking Joochan back to his house, sitting him down and explaining complicated concepts to a grumbling Joochan, ignoring the other’s increasingly-louder complaints. 

He’s there during cold mornings, during rainy nights, during warm afternoons in which Joochan wakes up to the sight of Sungyoon slumped next to him, fast asleep and glasses askew in what must surely be uncomfortable. It’s the least he can do to reach over and pry off Sungyoon’s glasses for him, but it’s what he’ll regret for the rest of his life, as he stills at the sight of Sungyoon fast asleep. Unconsciously, the tips of his fingers linger, pressing against warm skin. 

It’s the first time Joochan is witness to the sight of Sungyoon’s relaxed features, softened with sleep, the absence of his glasses making Joochan feel as if he’s looking at Sungyoon properly for the first time. There’s no trace of the usual blankness that infuriates Joochan to no end, and it occurs to Joochan then that Choi Sungyoon is someone who is flesh and blood just like him, someone he can _touch._

Caught up in his thoughts, he’s doesn’t realize that his fingers still rest against Sungyoon’s cheek until those lashes flutter open, gaze settling onto his own, and it’s just him and Sungyoon staring at each other, the sun turning Sungyoon’s dark eyes into molten gold. 

When he’s in high school, Joochan falls in love with Sungyoon. 

  
  
  


When he’s in college, Joochan watches Sungyoon fall for others. 

A sweet boy with a smile coated in sugar and sweaters that always seem to be too big for him. A bold girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. Another girl who wears her heart on her cheek, the flaw ultimately ending her relationship with Sungyoon. And worst of all, a tall boy who seems to have been hammered and molded for Sungyoon, their hands locked and eyes fond wherever they go.

Joochan listens to their giggles and chatters from the other side of the wall, listens to them as they mutter sweet nothings, as they make love. He hates himself for the jealousy that flares up inside him, searing hot and ugly, but he can’t help it, not when the other is living the life Joochan yearns for. 

Sometimes, he sits and wonders, wonders what it feels like to be the one wrapped in Sungyoon’s embrace and gazed at with those dark eyes with such affection. Sometimes, he imagines that it’s _him_ Sungyoon is whispering honeyed words to, it’s _him_ who is enveloped in Sungyoon’s arms, before the image shatters and he’s left with a pit in his stomach and overwhelming guilt.

The days it becomes too much and it feels that if he keeps it in any longer he’ll shatter apart, he runs and hides, drowning his sorrows in drinks and the touch of strangers. 

One drink, two drinks, three drinks. 

Hands on his hips that aren’t Sungyoon’s, and it feels so, _so_ wrong. 

Tears roll down his face and he hides them by disguising them as moans of pleasure. 

Sungyoon notices, sometimes. Like when Joochan’s sitting on the counter by himself, coffee that’s now cold clutched in his hands, neck and legs littered with the kisses of strangers and hips bruised with the sensation of fingers he wishes he could forget. 

“You okay?” Sungyoon asks, carding a gentle hand through Joochan’s hair, and it’s almost humiliating the way Joochan _aches_ at the touch. 

He smiles and clutches his coffee tighter, and responds as he always does. “Now I am,” he says, the _since you’re here now_ gone unsaid. 

Sungyoon smiles back, ruffling Joochan’s hair, reminiscent of their high school days. “That’s good.” 

His hand doesn’t leave from where it rests on Joochan’s head, and suddenly, it’s as if they’ve been thrown back in time, sitting in Joochan’s room, basking in the afternoon sun, Joochan’s heart throbbing in his chest. 

“Sungyoon-” He starts, and those dark eyes flicker to his own, and the words catch in his throat. “I-” 

It’s right there, at the tip of his tongue. Those three little words. Sungyoon’s looking at him expectantly and for a moment, a lifetime flashes before Joochan eyes, a lifetime of him and Sungyoon and secret smiles and stolen kisses tasting of strawberries and cream. 

-the phone rings and the moment of chance is gone, Sungyoon scrambling to retrieve his phone. Joochan catches the glimpse of the caller ID, at the name that winks on the screen. His heart sinks. “I need to get this,” Sungyoon says apologetically. “Tell me later.” 

Before Joochan can even reach out and grab Sungyoon’s sleeve, maybe plead for him to stay for a moment, he’s gone, just like Joochan’s wishful daydreams. 

“...Never mind,” Joochan whispers long after Sungyoon has left, fingers closing around empty air. “It’s nothing.”

The words ring in the silence, hollow and melancholic. 

When he’s in college, Joochan wishes desperately on the night sky that the world take pity on him and get rid of the love that digs its thorns into his heart, curling its branches around his ribcage and choking his throat, threatening to grow and bear fruit whenever Sungyoon is there. 

  
  
  


When he’s a bit older, the world accepts his wish. 

It’s a gradual process: the memories of Sungyoon’s fond expressions as Joochan had gotten excited over finally understanding his homework begin to grow foggy, the memories of the gentle, innocent brushes of fingers against his skin that Joochan had relished in fade at the corners, and even Sungyoon’s smile begins to grow hazy, and then one day, Joochan wakes up with a gasp, searching desperately for a memory of Sungyoon that isn’t a flicker of his eyes or his love he's always giving to others, never Joochan.

He finds none.

 _Forgotten love syndrome,_ Joochan reads on the Internet, after a night of clutching his head and being wracked by shudders, wondering desperately what is wrong with him. _A syndrome inflicted by unrequited love, causing a person to forget the person they love until eventually, they forget them completely, and the only way to retrieve those memories is via that person's death._

Joochan accepts it all in a stride.

“It’s easier this way,” he says, pressing his fingers against glass as he stares at himself in the mirror. A life with the crushing reminder that Sungyoon will never be his, will never kiss his lips and whisper confessions of love into his ears, will never scoop him up and giggle into his neck, is no life at all. 

If he can forget… He can live. 

The mirror fogs up with his breath. 

“I don’t want to forget,” he says quietly, very quietly. Because that life may be better, but the thought of forgetting his love for Sungyoon is somehow more painful than living with it. He leans his head against the glass and lets out a shuddering breath. 

He doesn’t want to forget, so he tries his best to remember, memorizing every curve of his eyes and line of his smile and burn the image of Sungyoon behind his eyelids, playing and replaying recordings of Sungyoon’s voice so often that he memorizes the words and begins mouthing along with them, thinking about the parts of Sungyoon he loves over and over.

Nothing works, and Joochan is left scrambling as the memories fade away like dreams after a wake, hazy and nostalgic. 

Sungyoon calls him one day, and his voice is solemn and quiet. 

“We broke up.” There is no trace of regret in his voice.

“Oh.” Joochan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t remember who Sungyoon’s lover had been. 

“Mind if I come over?” Sungyoon asks, and Joochan’s heart leaps to his throat, his fingers going stiff. 

_No,_ he should say. _No, I’m busy._ Because nothing good can come out of this, not when Sungyoon is freshly heartbroken and Joochan himself is gaping raw and open, one touch all it will take for him to crumble and fall. 

“Sure,” he says, even if he shouldn’t, and Sungyoon mumbles a _thanks_. 

Nothing good can come out of it, not when Sungyoon arrives bundled in the scarf Joochan had gotten him in high school, eyes downcast and lips tugging downwards. The sight has Joochan reaching out without a second thought, to wrap the other into his arms and Sungyoon crumbles apart, burying his head into Joochan’s shoulder, voice cracking as he tries to speak before giving up. Joochan doesn’t dare to even twitch a muscle even as his legs ache from standing and his neck grows sore from where Sungyoon has his face buried, tangling his fingers soothingly through Sungyoon’s hair and rubbing his back in an effort to offer comfort. 

Nothing good can come out of it, not when Sungyoon pulls away, eyes puffy and face flushed and Joochan offers him a beer and he agrees, exhaustion radiating off of him. One beer becomes two and then three and then they’re surrounded by what must be dozens of cans, and Joochan’s vision is getting more and more distorted and Sungyoon’s getting closer and closer…

And despite the rational part of Joochan’s mind screaming at him to stop before _this_ goes any further, before he creates yet another memory he will surely forget, the two end up entangled in his sheets, skin pressed against skin. 

It’s everything he had ever hoped for as Sungyoon’s lips press searing brands of fire against his skin, as his touch paints a million stars onto his skin, as Joochan’s fingers clench at his sheets, knuckles white, but at the same time it's nothing at all as every breath Sungyoon takes in sounds as if he’ll shatter apart if he lets go of Joochan, as Sungyoon breathes out the name of his ex-lover in his high.

The tears spring free then, cascading like waterfalls down his cheeks, not because of the pain, but because of the realization that after tonight, he will never get this again, never be able to hold Sungyoon as if he is Joochan’s. Sungyoon pauses every time he notices the tears tracking down Joochan’s moonlit face and he cradles the other’s face, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck, his lips, whispering reassurances all the while. 

Joochan clutches onto him more tightly, wishing that, even as he knows he is only a convenience for Sungyoon and the other is deluding himself, the night would never have to become dawn. 

The morning comes and all that is left of the night before is the note that simply reads _sorry_ and the purple flowers that bloom on Joochan’s skin, his fingers remembering things he tells them to forget. 

When he’s a bit older, Joochan begins to forget. 

  
  
  


When Joochan’s left to deal with the consequences of his actions and begins to see Sungyoon less and less, the syndrome takes its hold, and Joochan struggles to remember Sungyoon’s name. 

“S… S… Sung-” He squeezes his eyes shut, hands tightened into fists. “Sungyoon!” He finally gasps out, eyes flying wide open at the _effort_ it had taken for him to say the name.

He stares at the slip of paper held in his hands, the paper straining from how tightly he grips it. Why can’t he remember, even with it written right before him?

Why does the memory of Sungyoon grow more and more misty, even as Joochan wracks his mind and whispers the name like a mantra and feverishly writes out his feelings for him?

The paper rips in half and Joochan with it, salt staining his cheeks and hands and flooding his mouth as he comes apart at the seams, the very last thread that had been holding him together snapping into two, and Sungyoon and his smiles and the night Joochan had shared with him fades away.

When Joochan’s youth slips away from him, the name _Choi Sungyoon_ slips away with it, and he wakes up the next day wondering why his fingers are stained with graphite and his eyes are bloodshot and salt is dried on his lips. 

  
  
  


When he’s going on with life, sometimes, little winks, moments in dreams, stop him in his tracks. 

Dark hair. 

A hand grabbing his collar and pulling out his earrings, tutting all the while. 

Silently sharing snacks on the rooftop while the wind ruffles his hair and the short hairs on the back of his neck prickle from the breeze as he stares across at _someone_ in awe, but whenever Joochan tries to see who, the dream ends. 

A back pressed against his as a voice explains a problem to him, patient and gentle before it's tinged with exasperation as he’s asked why he’s not concentrating. Joochan doesn’t know how to explain his brain is going haywire because of the warmth bleeding into his back and the breath puffing against his ear, because of the arm resting heavily against his side. 

A soft voice singing when he’s fast asleep, low and soothing, bound to attract the birds and insects because of its sweetness. 

Dark eyes. 

These moments leave Joochan wondering desperately, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. 

_Who are you?_

He wants to know who it is in his memories, memories that have buried themselves deep inside and refuse to come. Who it is that had plagued his mind night and day, who it had been that had pulled him out of the pit he had fallen into, held his hand, and showed him he could be more. 

The memories never come, and Joochan is left staring at the darkness looming before his feet.

A man stops him one day, tall and handsome. “Joochan-ah!” He cries out, grabbing Joochan by the shoulders and pulling him back to get a clear look at him. His face is bright and aglow, a smile rivaling the brightness of the very sun unfurling across his face. “You-” 

Joochan stares up in confusion as the man rattles on, brow crinkling. There’s something about him that feels—familiar, somehow, but- 

“Do I know you?” Joochan asks, and the delight shatters on the man’s face, dread seeping into his handsome features as he stares. Joochan wonders if he’s said something wrong, as the man’s expression morphs from disbelief to confusion to sadness before it smoothens out, eerily blank of anything.

His fingers tighten their hold on Joochan, almost painful as his nails dig into his shoulders before he lets go and steps back, smile back in place even as it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No,” he says, so softly that Joochan has to strain to hear him. “No, you don’t.” His lips curve higher and his eyes grow more crestfallen and then before Joochan can react he’s leaning down, kissing Joochan. 

The kiss is sweet and tastes of regret and the wistfulness of the past, and then he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had leaned in, a thumb stroking the corner of Joochan’s lips.

“I hope you live happily,” the man tells him and then he’s gone and Joochan’s left reeling, wondering why his heart hurts as it does and his lungs feel as if they’re struggling to draw air. 

When he’s going on with life, Joochan wonders about the boy in his dreams. 

  
  
  


When even the dreams of the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy are gone, Joochan remembers. 

_Choi Sungyoon is dead._

The thought echoes in his head. He takes in a useless breath that only makes his head pound more. 

_Choi Sungyoon is dead._

A car accident. A drunk driver off-course, who had rammed into Sungyoon. There had been no chance of survival because he had died upon impact, Joochan had been told. 

Joochan had rushed to the hospital, face white and pale, a sick feeling in his stomach, the memories he had forgotten clawing desperately to escape and then he had skidded to a stop outside of Sungyoon’s hospital room and flung open the door and-

He _remembers._

The one who had pulled him out of darkness, the one who had held Joochan’s hand helped him through when no one else had. The one who sang him to sleep, the one Joochan had fallen completely, desperately in love with. 

_Choi Sungyoon is dead._

He doesn’t cry. 

Not when he’s clutching at Sungyoon’s limp, cold hand, staring into his pale face, features slack but not in the way Joochan had grown to love, not when it rains on Sungyoon’s funeral and he’s drenched to the bone, not when he reads the letter Sungyoon had written for him.

_It’s too late now._

_But I love you._

Joochan burns the letter. 

_I love you too,_ he thinks as he watches the flames swallow the paper, and the shadows that had seized his mind have been cast away to reveal the boy he had forgotten, the memories painted in bright colors across the canvas of his life. 

_If only one of us had been quicker._

When the blurry dreams are gone and replaced by the memories that Joochan remembers as if they had taken place the day before, Joochan is left with the remembrance of loving Sungyoon, a tombstone inscribed with dates, and the ghost of Sungyoon’s smile from long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry-
> 
> come be friends with me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/yeosakoi) !! ty for reading !!


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